The Confusing Hues of Love and Loss
“Ramya!” her mother called.
“Coming!” Ramya replied, putting on her bindi quickly and glancing at her pale face in the mirror before hurrying to her mother.
“We will be late for the bus again. Have you taken your lunch box?” asked her mother.
“Yes, amma, and stop fussing with my hair. Let’s go!”
They ran outside just in time to see the school bus arrive at their gate.
Her mother pecked her and smiled as Ramya gave her a quick wave and got on the bus.
Her friend, Achu, had saved her a seat. She flopped down beside Achu.
“I can see your left toe through your shoe, by the way,” Achu said.
Ramya instinctively hid her feet below the seat. “I can’t ask amma for new shoes, you know that. I heard her ask someone for money again yesterday,” she said.
“Oh, well,” Achu said, “give a girl the right shoes, and she will conquer the world; I think Marilyn Monroe said that. Even with these shitty shoes, you topped the class on the Math quiz yesterday, didn’t you? God save us all if you get the right shoes.”
Ramya gave her a poke in the ribs. This was why she liked Achu. Besides being funny and smart, she never judged her. Achu had been an enormous support for her at high…
